It All Starts With You
by Deadly Waters
Summary: There was no hope, no security. She knew it was only a matter of time before she broke, like the delicate glass that she was. And that prince in shining armor would sweep away her broken shards, instead of sweeping her off her feet.


Well, this was unexpected. I didn't think I would already publish something, when I just joined this week. Sorry if there are any spelling errors,I only checked through this a few times.

Summary: **There was no hope, no security. She knew it was only a matter of time before she broke, like the delicate glass that she was. And that prince in shining armor would sweep away her broken shards, instead of sweeping her off her feet.**

**XX**

A cry out for help can be coated with small stunts. It is purely a desperate plea for attention, whether it be from lack of, or neglect. But no matter what, it is never a _want_; but a _need_. A need to be set free, to break away from the hallow cage of fear. A need to be noticed.

And that's what everyone will come to _need_ in life. Sure, loneliness can be relieving, but only for so long. After a while, it starts to trigger unwanted feelings. It can make you feel trapped, with no ways of escaping. Then, when you want out, it pulls you right back in, promising you that things will get better, because it doesn't want you to leave. Strangely enough, its much like an abusive relationship. It takes a strong person to stay, but an even stronger person to let go.

And she didn't want to let go, not just yet.

But her consistent 'cries for help' said otherwise. A part of her really wanted to be saved, to not feel so hopeless and empty. She wanted to forget her unhealthy obsessions, her parents, school, everything. She wanted it all to blow away, leaving her with a clear mind. She did not want to feel the emotions of heartbreak, or anger, or love. No, she didn't want to _feel_ at all.

Yet, sadly, she couldn't just simply _forget_. All of those years of forced torment could not be forgotten, because time wasn't like pencil on paper. It couldn't be erased.

Letting out a long, annoyed groan, she aggressively shoved all of her useless crap into her backpack. She didn't want to go, but the school had already sent multiply letters home for her unexcused absences, and she didn't want to get into trouble with the police for something so stupid. Although, school had started about 30 minutes before she actually got up. '_Too bad_.' She thought angrily, tucking a lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear. '_At least I'm showing up to the damned place.'_

Glancing over at the big brass mirror on her vanity, she looked at the being who only stared back in return. Her porcelain skin clashed with the dark clothing she wore, but who would care? Rhonda, the self acclaimed 'fashion police'? Yah right, the two hadn't talked in years. Sighing, she pulled an elastic band off her wrist, using it to tie her thin locks of hair into a messy ponytail. Looking a bit closer, her skin no longer seemed flawless. There were dark bags under her eyes, indicating that she hadn't been sleeping very well. Tiny red pimples were peppered across her face, which only got bigger if you touched them.

Her thick, bushy eyebrows were on the verge of touching, but she never allowed it. As long as there was a space in between, she let them be. No one could ever make fun of her for having a 'unibrow' ever again. Not like she cared though, because she didn't. No, Helga G. Pataki didn't care at all.

Sighing in annoyance, she torn her eyes away from her reflection, searching the vanity for the final piece. It was, of course, something she never left home without. Spotting it almost immediately, she reached for a long, faded pink ribbon. The ends of it were frayed, but she didn't dare cut it. If she did, then it would loose its value.

Carefully, she wove it into her ponytail, creating a perfect, pink bow.

Then, staring at her reflection yet again, she let her neutral expression twist into a scowl. And that's how she went about every day; not letting any other emotions surface. She was Helga Pataki, the prize that would never be bought; the weed in a garden of roses.

And that was the way it would always be.

**XX**

So far, its boring. This is really just a small, vague drabble, and something I don't really have planned out. But I do know that it will focus more on just.. life, more than a story. I've wanted to do something like this for a long time, but never really got into it.

This is, in fact, my first fanfic. Reviews are appreciated, but not needed. I think this is way too short to be just one single chapter, but that's just my opinion. I might just add more to it, rather than adding another chapter for the next update.

Updates, for the time being, will come out every few days or so. I'm only a regular 14 year old girl, so my life hasn't really begun just yet. It all depends on how I'm feeling. If I don't put effort into something, I start fresh. But, for the record, I do like this little piece I have created. Hey Arnold was my favorite show on Nickelodeon when I was younger.

Alright, alright, I'll stop boring you to death. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

~ Zero


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